


Guilt

by SharaMichaels



Category: Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera & Related Fandoms, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra | Phantom of the Opera - Gaston Leroux
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 22:38:33
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 308
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11518956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SharaMichaels/pseuds/SharaMichaels
Summary: Sometimes she wonders if she'll ever get a good night's sleep.I found this drabble in my writing notebook and I liked it enough to post it. It's short and it's more about capturing an emotion than a piece of narration, but I felt the need to balance out the Love Never Dies based works with some good ol' Leroux inspired stuff.





	Guilt

 

Guilt is what keeps Christine Daaé awake at night.

She stays in her armchair with a music notebook in her lap, but her gaze follows the shadows casted on the walls by the gas lamp. Her ears are full of Erik’s screams and whimpers and she feels guilty like she has never felt before. What if she went back, just for a day, just for a few hours? Grant him that walk in the park, or sing a song with him, one full of light this time?

A sound from the adjacent room makes her flinch and look toward the door. Raoul barges in; he has to close his eyes to adjust to the light and rests his forehead on the wooden door frame. His neck is drenched in sweat and he is breathing heavily.

“A nightmare, darling?”

His gaze is still unfocused.

“A nightmare.”

She opens her arms and scoots aside to make room for him in the armchair.

“Come here.”

Raoul nestles against her and hides his face in the hollow of her neck. Christine puts her arms around her husband and caresses his hair.

“Christine, he’s a demon.”

Christine sighs. A demon that cries and begs and hurts more than the whole world. Her husband shivers in her embrace and, out of the corner of her eye, she spots his bruised wrists. He still doesn’t let her touch them… She presses a long kiss against Raoul’s hair and tightens her grip.

“A demon, yes… I won’t let him hurt you anymore,” she whispers as she rocks him gently.

The clock’s limbs have travelled a great deal and the gas in the lamp is on its last leg. Raoul is breathing softly in Christine’s embrace. Her eyes are wide open glancing at the long shadows cast on the walls.

And guilt still doesn’t let her sleep.

 


End file.
